


Fault: Deleted Scenes

by keira_irl



Series: Fault [3]
Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: April Fools' Day, F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-02
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-04-17 03:34:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14179641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keira_irl/pseuds/keira_irl
Summary: Cover art by the fantasticbabylonsheep-lonsheep.deviantart.comDeleted scenes from your favorite happy cape story.





	1. Sundering 3.6* - Fantasy

###  Icarus

“Ugh,” I muttered under my breath, ignoring the stares from everyone else crammed in line.

“Brenna, relax. We’re almost there,” Dad said, rolling his eyes and kicking his rolling suitcase forward a foot as the line shifted. Up ahead, I could see the head of the line, about a million miles away.

“This is dumb, Dad,” I said, looking out in despair at the line. “I literally fly faster than an airliner. Why did you get me a ticket?”

“Because you’re my daughter and we’ve barely spoken recently. Accept your fate.”

I sighed, and pushed my luggage forward an inch because that was how fast the line was going. Seriously, who went on vacation to fucking  _ Brockton Bay??? _

About a decade later, we reached the front of the line, and a sweaty-looking man checked our boarding passes. He gestured towards the array of metal detectors.

“Uh…”

“Step through the detector, citizen.”

I glanced over my shoulder, at the gleaming metal wings. I glanced at my metal arms. If I had special eyes, I would have glanced at the assorted bits of metal littering the interior of my body. “Okay, dude.”

I stepped through. There was a shrill beep. Surprise surprise.

“Citizen, halt!” an agent said, sticking out a blue-gloved hand. I rolled my eyes. “Do you have any metal on your person? Change, loose keys, et cetera?”

Dad had made it through just fine, he was at the other side with our luggages waiting patiently. I sighed. “No sir, just  _ my entire body _ .”

“All metals need to be put in a separate plastic bag, and you may not have containers greater than three fluid ounces,” the security guard stated as if reciting from a book.

“I think that’s for liquids—”

The guard took a step back, grabbing his radio. “I need backup at station three, problem civilian.”

“Oh my god just fucking stop,” I said, my wingtips twitching with irritation. “First of all, I’m pretty sure I’m not a civilian. Secondly, in this day and age, your solution to security is just to pack people into a security checkpoint? If I were a villain I’d drop a bomb right back there! How dumb can you be?”

“Brenna!” Dad shouted. He said something else I didn’t catch.

“Also, seriously? If I wanted to fuck up a plane I’d just, I dunno, fly up to it and start tearing it apart? And why is there even this much security, is this 2010 or 1984?”

More guards appeared, circling around me. These ones had body armor and guns.

“Body armor, seriously? I’m going on vacation with my dad! Why do you need body armor to talk to me?”

“Citizen, we’re going to need you to come with us.”

I let out a long sigh. I got the impression I wouldn’t be getting on an airplane today.

 

\---

 

Compared to the massive sprawl of DIA, Brockton Bay International Airport was  _ adorable _ . I was sitting in one of the chairs around the airport’s grand total of three ( _ three! How cute _ ) baggage claims, waiting for Dad to appear.

I guess it made sense that the airport was so small. With Boston only an unspecified distance away, most people probably just drove the extra unspecified length of time to fly out of there instead. Still though, all of the airport staff seemed friendly enough, even if ATC was a little pissy for having to redirect a couple flights. Like it was sooooo much extra work to tell an airplane to move.

There was the loud sound of mechanical shit grinding, and one of the baggage claims started spewing out luggage. I grabbed Dad’s boring suitcase, and then my own much-better suitcase once it came out. Seriously, who would have a plain-looking black luggage when you could have a Kaminari-themed beauty?

“Brenna?” a familiar voice said behind me. I spun around to see the bewildered face of Dad.

“Hi! Sorry, they wouldn’t let me on the plane, so I just flew myself.”

“It… looked like they were arresting you, how did you get here?”

“Don’t worry about it,” I said quickly. “And I’ll not ask about why you got on the plane instead of checking on me!”

“I planned my vacation a year in advance, nothing short of an Endbringer is stopping me from doing some shopping and relaxing.”

I rolled my eyes and gave him a hug. “Okay, well, let’s get this over with.”

 

—

 

We were strolling down the boardwalk, enjoying the salty seaside air of Brockton Bay. “Enjoying”. Really, all oceans smell like rotting fish and ass, but Dad seemed to be fine with it.

I’d done some shopping, and had a few bags of stuff hanging off of one of my wings, and an ice cream cone in my hands. Dad had been rambling for about ten minutes about how it was customary for fathers to refer to their children as “kiddos” here, which I thought was pretty stupid but whatever.

A fly landed in my ice cream. I waved at it to fuck off, but it just buzzed at me, determined to ruin my mountain of Supreme Double Fudge Moose Tracks Peanut Butter Delight. I sighed, and flicked it off with a mechanical finger.  _ Fucking Brockton. _

“Why’d you want to come here, anyway?” I asked, to interrupt Dad’s stream of consciousness about the implications of the word Kiddo.

He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by loud barking.  _ Really _ loud barking. Down the boardwalk, gigantic fucking demon dogs with supervillains riding them, running straight towards us.

_ Fucking Brockton. _

There were more flies on my ice cream now, and I could feel a few in my hair. Dad was batting a couple off as well. I tossed the ice cream into a nearby bin, and went back to watching the scene unfold.

The demon dogs stopped in front of a store, their powerful claws tearing into the boardwalk’s boards as they skittered to a halt. It was a jewelry store, and it wasn’t a big stretch to figure out what the five weirdos were about to do.

I wasn’t on the clock. This wasn’t my problem. Still, instead of having common sense and getting the fuck out, I set down my shopping, and decided to stick around.

Five villains. An edgelord spewing out fog, a cute blonde girl, a bitchy tomboy who seemed to control the dogs, Regent, and some weird bug girl. I could definitely take her.

The edgelord vomited out black fog that blanketed the jewelry store, the darkness muffling the sound of smashing windows as the others let themselves in.

I pulled my backpack off, and took my mask out, brushing away a fly to clip it on.  _ Fucking Brockton. _ I could’ve been enjoying my ice cream, but noooo, Dad wanted to go shopping in fucking villain central.

My HUD flickered to life, and I couldn’t help but grin as it automatically connected to the local PRT’s network. I hadn’t exactly had a chance to test the software for that, after all Colorado Springs used the Denver network, and Glenwood was far too small to need such connectivity—I was getting distracted.

I turned on the radio. “This is Icarus. Uhhhh, you guys are having a robbery down by the ocean.”

“Icarus? Who’s that?” someone said. I mean I guess they probably wouldn’t know who I was.

“Oh, uh. I’m from out of town, and I guess these guys wanted to ruin my vacation.”

“You know Icarus is a boy name, right?”

“Dude, do you really think this is the time or place?” I replied, a bit peeved.

“Whatever. You should really talk to Paul about rebranding, because that’s just going to confuse people.”

“Who the fuck is Paul?” I asked, confused. Meanwhile, the villains were starting to load bags of jewels onto the monster dogs.

“He’s our PR guy. Where are you from, anyway?”

“Uh… Denver? So about these supervillains—”

“Oh, that explains it. You guys have the worst PR.”

I sighed, and turned off the radio. This was pointless. Even if I was a little happy at the jab to Ben the Asshole PR Guy. I stepped forward, flicking my wings on and deploying my taser module.

The blonde girl stepped out of the store holding a pile of diamonds. Her eyes went straight to me, and she grinned. “Little hero from out of town, out of her depth. Let’s see… flight, obviously. Is that a prosthetic arm? Ah, you’ve got them all over your body. You’d be doing yourself a favor by turning around.”

_ The fuck? Some kind of combat thinker? _

“Thanks for the advice,” I replied, my voice distorted by the mask. “I’d certainly be doing my eyes a favor, not having to see your ugly ass.”

The girl’s grin grew. “You don’t really think that. You were checking me out earlier, weren’t you?”

“You kinda were, dear,” Dad piped up. Why was he still here?

“YOU AREN’T HELPING, DAD!” I pointed a metal finger at Blondie. “And you! I’m. Not. A. Fucking. Lesbian!”

The girl cocked her head. “No, you aren’t actually. You’re so obviously into both, though. Even your own dad knows that.”

“Oh my fucking god is this the part where I get to tase you and go back to having a vacation?”

“Who the hell vacations in  _ Brockton Bay _ ,” bug girl piped up. Whoever she was.

“Right? Seriously, no offense to your guys’s city, but this is the most interesting thing I’ve seen. Why would anyone visit?”

I heard munching next to me, and there was Dad eating  _ fucking popcorn _ . “This is exactly why I’m here.”

“What? Dad what the fuck!” I turned to face him, hoping my tracking system would alert me to the villains’ movements. “You flew your daughter out to have the equivalent of a parahuman cockfight?”

“No. Well, yes. But I also was hoping to meet Miss Militia.”

I frowned. “That’s really shitty, but Miss Militia  _ is _ pretty cool.”

The blonde girl piped up behind me, her voice a mocking imitation of my own. “ _ I’m not a lesbian! Miss Militia is cute! Tattletale’s ass is great! But nope, I’m straight! _ ”

Bug girl glanced down and shrugged.

“Don’t even bother, Skitter,” Tattletale replied. She gave a long, dramatic sigh. “Anyway, it’s time for us to go. Right between her wings, Imp.”

Before I had a chance to ask what the fuck that was supposed to mean, a taser slammed into my back, and I fell to the ground.

“Make sure to meet me at the hotel by eight, hon,” my dad said cheerfully.

_ Well, shit. _   
  


—

 

There was the sound of buzzing. I could feel bugs crawling all over me, everywhere. I could even feel them between the metal feathers of my wings. The sensation was  _ awful _ to say the least.

“Good morning!” Someone said cheerfully. Sounded like Regent. I opened my eyes.

I was tied to a chair, in a room somewhere. Regent was there, sitting on a table idly tossing his scepter between his hands. Next to him, I could see my mask.

“Where the fucking shit am I!” I snarled at him, trying to pull myself free of the chair. Sturdy chains, that didn’t give. They’d known about my strength, I supposed.

“You’re in our dastardly lair, I guess I should say. Tattletale took a liking to you, so she said to bring you along.”

“And you just think you can fucking kidnap a Ward and tie her to a chair?” I shouted at him. He didn’t seem too bothered. “What the fuck do you want?”

Regent sighed, and walked out of the room. I sighed, and leaned my head back. It was then that I noticed the masked girl right behind me, the source of all the bugs. “Oh holy fucking shit Jesus!” I screamed, jerking away.

The weird bug girl prowled around, until she was in front of me. She leaned her head in close, staring at me with her head cocked to the side. Close enough that I could hear her breath behind the mask, even through all the buzzing of insects.

“You’re really fucking creepy.” I muttered.

“I know,” she replied, stepping back. “I hate people like you.”

“Thanks?”

“You come here to look at all the capes, see the fighting. Like it’s some sort of joke. People are getting hurt, and you tourists take pictures.”

I rolled my eyes. “God, you mean that underneath the thinly-veiled surface of cape culture, there’s a festering pit of pain and suffering and everyone looks the other way?”

“...yes. You stole my monologue.”

“Seriously, Bugs, every place is like that. You guys get Nazis, we get Tinkertech daterape. Stop acting like you’re the protagonist of some book.”

“You think your Denver is worse than this hellhole?”

“Oh, are we gonna start ranking our suffering? Shittiness is shittiness, and I’m pretty sure you’re gonna try and justify your villainy, so just… stop.”

“I do more every day than you  _ heroes _ do in a month. The PRT? The Protectorate? All they care about is image. To maintain the status quo.”

I paused. “Oh my God. I have to tell Naomi.”

“Who is Naomi? What are you telling her?”

“She’s my team captain.” I grinned. “I have to tell her I’ve found an edgier version of myself!”

The buzzing grew louder. “I’m not edgy. I’m  _ terrifying.” _

“You’re not terrifying,” I said with an eyeroll. “Terrifying? That’s losing your memories to experimental drugs. That’s hearing the Simurgh’s scream in your brain. Seeing the look in someone’s eyes as you kill them. Your terror levels are, like, a two out of ten,  _ kiddo. _ ”

Hundreds of bugs swarmed into me, digging into every nook and cranny. It was about a five out of ten for most uncomfortable situation I’d been in. “You’re not my dad! Only my dad can call me kiddo!”

There was the sound of someone clearing her throat. Tattletale entered the room. “I seem to remember calling you kiddo at least once, Taylor,” she said, her eyes planted firmly on me.”

“What the fuck,  _ Lisa _ ? You know we’ve got a hero sitting in a chair listening, right?”

“I do,” she said, grinning. I would’ve called it a vulpine grin, but that was fucking stupid. “But something’s not right, and I know what it is.”

“Oh my god, you thinly-veiled exposition device,” I said with a sigh. “Just fucking get on with it.”

“I’ll have you know I am the  _ best _ exposition device you’ll ever see on the internet,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Fine. Oh my fucking God. Oh, Lisa Tattletale Lastname, please see fit to grant us the answers to the questions we don’t even know to ask.”

Tattletale raised a vulpine eyebrow. “Much better. See, you’re not from around here.” She trailed off, obviously wanting someone to pick up.

“No shit. I’m from Denver,” I said, deadpan.

“No, you fool. This doesn’t feel right. It hasn’t. Something is really wrong, here.”

“I… I actually kinda know the feeling,” I admitted.

“So you know what I’m talking about?”

“Yeah! Like…” I paused. “It feels like you guys are appearing a year early in the timeline.”

And just like that, the paradox collapsed.

###  Starving Artist

It was done. A sip for a job well done. A sip to quell the irritation from the screams. I looked down the elevator shaft at the forms of Sylvi, Naomi, and Isabelle. At least they seemed to be enjoying themselves.

“Nope, sorry. This isn’t gonna work.” A voice behind me, an almost nasally woman.

I turned to face her. Green eyes glared into my own as one finger messed with her curly hair. My power showed me that she, as well, altered her body to find beauty.

A sip for the interruption. “Hmm?” 

The woman crossed her arms, her face set in disappointment. “You can’t just seize the point of view and toss the previous ones down an elevator shaft! Honestly, it’s not even that funny of a meme.”

Point of view? Meme? I took a sip of inspiration, to try to understand. A sip to quell my irritation when I could not. 

“They’re happier than they ever were.”

The woman sighed, shaking her head. “You have a terrible definition for happiness. Please stop, before I force you. I could be watching Masterchef right now. I need my Gordon Ramsay fix, dammit.”

“Perhaps I could help you. I sense a desire for beauty. We have that in common. What’s your name?”

“Zoe. And no thanks. I don’t think you can affect me anyway.”

A twitch of irritation, and a sip.

“I have—”

“Nope.” Zoe cut me off. “Not even getting into that. Keira, back me up here?”

“I will gladly accept for her! Pretty please?” The second woman’s voice seemed to come from everywhere but also nowhere, at the same time. Perplexing.

Zoe sighed and took out a pen. “Never mind. Hard way it is.”

Alarm shot through me. I tossed a containment mixture at the strange woman, only for her to wave through it. Not even a splatter touched her, despite the fact that half the room was covered.

“That’s not gonna work. See, I cheat.”

A quick mixture in the bucket, and I set it to pour, only to feel a tap on my shoulder. She was behind me, but also still ahead of me. Copies of the woman appeared everything, surrounding me.

The Zoe clones simultaneously shifted the pen, and my world went white.


	2. Snip: Alternate Artist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _This is a very short little snippet, sort of a mishmash of both an AU Starving Artist and the original Portland setting (before we decided early on for Fault to take place in Denver instead)._

The phone stopped vibrating, the blue-tinged glow of the "incoming call" screen replaced by the "1 missed call: Mom" popup. I sighed, and put the phone away.

Around me, the din of the party re-entered my awareness as the terror of the call faded away. I was wearing a dress, a dark green to complement the brighter highlights in my hair, and a domino mask, fit awkwardly to the top of my face.

Domino masks: the "honor system" of secret identity protection.

I took a sip of too-sweet wine, glancing around at the merry crowd around me. I'd never enjoyed these functions, mandatory as they were; it was just too much fuss to pretend to be excited about so-and-so's charity or whoever's birthday. Especially not when the venue was owned by hipsters. The sole lighting was provided by gas lanterns, for Christ's sake!

"I don't think we've been introduced," a voice said behind me. I turned to see a woman, with dark-colored hair and eyes, and a brilliant black Victorian-style dress. She had a domino mask much like mine. A cape, and a cute one at that. "You don't look like you're having fun."

"That obvious?" I asked with a laugh. "I'm not the type for..." I trailed off, gesturing at the everything.

"A little bit." She smiled. "Don't worry, most people aren't. They just have good acting skills and a taste for wine that stops at the price point."

"And which are you?"

"Conscription, just like you," she replied, offering a hand. "Name's Papercut."

"Sublime," I replied, managing not to stumble over the still-unfamiliar-to-me cape name.

"Oh!" Her smile became a grin. "You've been here since January, and I'm _just now_  meeting you? You don't have a secret Stranger rating, do you?"

"Just my work," I replied tersely. Even now, I could feel an imaginary string, pulling me back to the drafting table in my workshop.

She paused to take a sip of her wine, a thoughtful look appearing behind the mask. "Say, what do you say we ditch these losers and have some fun?"

"Fun?"

"Yeah! Let's hit the town. Come on, it'll be fun! I hear the Troupe was planning a show, we can crash it."

I hesitated. Part of me had wanted to sneak off sometimes, and be a _real_ cape, not a glorified chemical engineer, but... "I don't know how to fight, I'd get my ass kicked. Sorry."

Papercut grabbed me by the shoulders, and suddenly I was aware of just how short I was compared to her. And I had _heels_. "Sublime. You're, like, a Tinker, right? And you couldn't make, like, potions or drugs or something?"

"Of course I _could,_ " I said indignantly. The clockwork man in the back of my head stumbled to life. I had a couple jars of chemicals stored away in my car---well, to be honest, the inside looked like a meth lab, but that wasn't important. I could probably make some sort of super adhesive, or maybe some sort of concentrated sedative I could splash on an enemy to make them drowsy...

"There's the Tinker look!" Papercut smirked. "I'll meet you around back, okay?"

"Sure." I was low on silver nitrate, but I had enough to make maybe one or two prototypes. Getting hydrocarbons would be a pain... wait, it was a car, I could just use some gas or oil. Wait... shit! I just agreed to this stupid plan! "Wait!"

But she was already gone, in her place a very confused server. I set my half-drank wineglass on his stupid tray, and ran out to the parking lot, only almost breaking my ankle twice in the stupid lady stilts.

"That was quick," Papercut said with a smirk, leaning against the door of an expensive-looking car. Her dress poured off of her, the dark of the parking lot causing it to meld seamlessly into the asphalt.

"You! You... you ruffian!" I poked a finger at her, stomping over. "Why would you lead a Tinker on like that!"

"Because it's the only way to get nerds like you to come outside with me," she said with a grin. "You still wanna? Or you can go back to your party."

I made a... I wasn't sure how to describe it. Angry purring? "Fine! But... only on one condition."

"What's that?" The cute smirk was back.

I stepped closer, glancing around to make sure nobody was looking before pulling the mask off and letting it fall to the ground. "I don't like the name Sublime. It doesn't fit."

"No shit," she snorted. "But you need a name..."

"Just call me Alex," I blurted out, before making a distressed squeak.

Papercut raised an eyebrow. "Alex, huh? You know, ordinary capes, they uh, they have _cape names._ "

"Oh? What made you think I'm a normal cape?" I stammered out. For some reason my cheeks felt warm.

"Alex..." She looked down at me, that smirk growing. "Nothing about you is normal."


End file.
